Days Go By
by deathRae94
Summary: This is a collection of "one-shots" concerning Camber Cousland and characters in her universe. They will be posted as I write them, and not necessarily in chronological order. Lots of Arl Rendon Howe. (Also, why is Rendon's character tag spelled "Rendorn"? That's irritating.)
1. Stolen Lives

Chapter 1: Stolen Lives

Chapter Text

" _No!"_ Camber screamed. "I'm not leaving them!"

"Pup—" her father stopped short, and coughed into his wife's lap. When Bryce lifted his head, Camber saw that blood was on his lips and in his teeth. He was dying.

"You—you must _go_ , now!"

" _I won't!"_ Tears streamed down her face to the corners of her lips, and she involuntarily licked the moisture. It was a mistake, she realized, because she tasted not only salt, but oil and blood and dirt, as well. She heard her mabari whine, but she paid him no heed. "You can't make me! I'll die here with you, if I must!"

Eleanor turned her gaze toward her daughter. Her eyes narrowed and darkened: a sign of anger, as Camber knew all too well. "Camber, _never_ say something like that again," she hissed. After a pause, her features softened. "I love you too much to hear you say that."

Bryce coughed again. Fluid was in his lungs, and he knew he did not have much longer. His vision swam, and he tried to focus on his daughter's blurred face. "A Cousland… always does her duty first. Defeat the darkspawn, aye?… and _then_ see to it that Rendon pays for his treachery."

Camber's lips quivered as she struggled to breathe evenly. "Father," she murmured, and kissed his cheek. She threw her arms around her mother. "Mother—"

"—You don't need to say anything, Dear."

"Mother, I love you."

Eleanor withdrew her hand from Bryce's side, and hugged her daughter tightly. "And I love you. Now go!"

For their part, neither Duncan nor Lyra had made no sound during the emotional exchange. When Camber stood and turned to face them, neither of their faces betrayed emotion. It stung, to think that neither of them felt her grief. Well, fine. She didn't need their pity. Camber waited for a moment, expecting Duncan to lead his two Warden-recruits. She then realized that they were waiting for her.

"The exit is this way," Camber stated flatly. She glanced back at her parents for the last time, knowing she would not see them again. "Come, Judex," she said to her dog. She led Duncan and Lyra to the kitchens, and she snatched a burlap sack and began filling it with dried meat and produce, knowing full well that Judex would eat most of the meat. Camber voiced that was at least ten days on horseback to Ostagar, and they likely wouldn't stop for a long time – perhaps until Kinloch Hold, or Redcliffe. Duncan nodded, and grabbed a sack; Lyra only followed suit after Duncan. She preferred to sneer at everything, it seemed. Camber then led them to the servant's exit. Not bothering with the latch, she kicked the door open and stepped into the cool, night air.

That the Warden had been here had been a… complication. Rendon hadn't intended on making enemies of the Wardens; but Duncan had shown up uninvited, so he would pay the price of his discourtesy.

"Captain Kerin," Rendon barked. "Where are they?"

Kerin saluted his Arl. "Arl Howe, ser. The Teyrns Cousland were found in the larder. The Teyrn is gravely wounded, and his wife has been captured."

Rendon grimaced. "Bryce… was not… to be harmed." Each word came out slowly, through gritted teeth. Rendon's anger was on the verge of boiling over.

Kerin noticed it immediately, and he knew better than to let Rendon's wrath manifest. "Rendon—my lord—the man who injured Teyrn Cousland has been dealt with already."

"Good." Rendon breathed deeply before speaking. "And what of the girl?"

Kerin's breath caught. "Camber Cousland… is nowhere to be found."

" _WHAT?!"_ Rendon reached for the nearest breakable object – in this case, a vase – and smashed it upon the ground. Kerin maintained a straight face. "How?!" Rendon seethed. "Nevermind that. Find her."

Kerin waited for his lord's posture to resume normalcy. "I have already sent scouts, my lord. I have instructed them to report to me as soon as she has been captured."

Rendon sighed. "What of the Warden?"

"Unaccounted for as well, my lord."

"Thank you, Captain. Take me to Bryce."

"At once, my lord." Kerin motioned for Rendon to follow, and he led the Arl through Highever Castle to the larder. Teyrn Bryce had been administered poultices to staunch the bleeding, but it wouldn't be long before he died – not unless a mage were nearby, or the Maker himself intervened. Teyrna Eleanor had put up a fight and killed four of his men before she was overwhelmed. Her hands were bound, and she had been gagged – she had torn the flesh from one of his men's arms with her teeth. She was spirited, Kerin gave her that.

When Rendon entered, he saw beads of sweat on Bryce's deathly pale skin, and his breaths were shallow and uneven. Eleanor had given up on fighting, it seemed. Whether her will was sapped, or her strength had failed, no one could tell; but Rendon knew better than to assume either of those things were true.

"Leave us," Rendon ordered. He knew his men wouldn't give him complete privacy, but he could hope they wouldn't overhear this exchange.

When Rendon had spoken, Bryce's eyes had slowly opened. He looked at his old friend, and coughed before he spoke. "Rendon, why?"

Two words—two words were all it took to nearly break him. "Because," Rendon whispered, and turned his gaze to Eleanor, "you took everything from me."


	2. I Spy

The Cousland family, Nathaniel in tow, took a carriage to Amaranthine. Nathaniel had stayed at Castle Highever for the summer, and the Couslands would stay in Amaranthine for a week or two… Nathaniel wasn't really sure. He was just glad to finally be going home.

Nathaniel, Fergus, and Camber rode in the back, while Bryce and Eleanor rode in the front. Fergus remained silent, pouting… wishing he could go back to Highever and practice his swordplay. Camber, on the other hand, chatted endlessly, and Nathaniel indulged her. They talked about the weather, about the King, about whose life was more boring. It would take three days to get there, so they had to keep themselves entertained somehow.

"I spy… something yellow."

Nathaniel looked at his betrothed curiously. "Seriously?"

"We have nothing else to do! Now, guess!"

"Oh, fine." Nathaniel looked around the carriage. Nothing 'yellow' immediately jumped out to him, so he looked outside. It was overcast, he noted. "Is it sunflowers?"

"Correct!" Camber clapped. "But that was easy. Your turn!"

"I spy something brown."

"Okay, umm…" Camber looked around. There was a lot of brown. "Is it the benches?"

"Nope."

"Is it… the dirt outside?"

Nathaniel shook his head.

"Is it my hair?"

"Wrong again."

Camber scoffed. "You picked a difficult color."

Nathaniel chuckled. "Keep guessing, Camber."

"Can you at least tell me if it's inside or outside?"

"Of course not!"

"Pleeease?" Camber whined.

"Fine… inside."

"Okay! Is it the wood on the floor?"

"No."

"Is it your 'pack?!"

"No."

Camber looked around. "Is it the beams, holding up the cloth?" she asked, pointed upward. Nathaniel shook his head, and she sighed heavily. "I give up."

Nathaniel smiled. "Your shoes."

"Oh."

"That's two points for me! Shall we continue?"

"Yes," said Camber, defiantly. She looked around the carriage, and outside, taking her time, careful to not look _at_ Nathaniel. Finally, she said, "I spy something grey."

"The sky?"

"Nope!" Camber grinned. "You can't even see the sky, silly!"

"The _clouds?_ "

"Huh-uh."

"Is it the ribbon on your dress?" Camber shook her head. "The Waking Sea?" _No_. Nathaniel leaned forward, looking toward the front half of the carriage, where her parents sat. "Is it the buttons on your father's shoulder?"

"Nooo…"

Nathaniel whispered his next guess: "Your mother's hair?"

Fergus laughed. Camber shook her head yet again.

"By the Maker! Is it the thread on my breeches?"

The younger Cousland giggled. "You're wrong."

Nathaniel relented. "What is it?"

"Your eyes, silly!"

He pursed his lips. "You didn't even look at my eyes – you didn't look at me!"

"So? I know your eyes are grey."

"That's not the point of _I Spy_ , Camber."

"But I won!"

Nathaniel sighed. Camber was still a child, in his eyes. They had been promised to each other since she could barely walk… but he was sixteen and she was ten. To think of her as anything more than a child at this point was ludicrous. She still had trouble walking, truth be told. She lacked the grace required of a nobleman's daughter, and would rather climb trees than read books. He couldn't fault her, though. He had wanted to climb trees at her age. Yet he was the eldest Howe, and he had responsibilities, as the eldest.

Responsibilities, including setting aside childish pleasures, learning how to defend himself in battle, practicing diplomacy and leadership… and marrying a Teyrn's daughter.


	3. Storm Giant

Rendon could hardly believe it… but they had won. Fereldan was free. It wouldn't be free for long, however, if they could not drive the Orlesians out of their waters. And for that reason, Bryce, Leonas, and himself marched to Denerim with all their remaining men.

One of the former banns, Fearcher Mac Eanraig, was bloody brilliant on the seas; and while their trio had done their part helping Maric on Fereldan's land, Fearcher had been relentless in keeping Orlais's ships from supplying their army. Rendon knew many of their victories should have been losses, but Orlais's dwindling rations and arms had taken a toll on their morale and capabilities. Beyond that, it seemed like some of the soldiers had given up on the reason for the conflict. _Let these Fereldans have their country_ , Rendon recalled a prisoner saying. _It smells like dog_.

True, Fereldan did smell like dog, but that was just one of the many reasons it belonged in the hands of Fereldans, and not Orlesians.

They arrived in Denerim in the middle of the day. While they allowed their men to rest from the long journey, Leonas, Bryce, and Rendon continued to Denerim's docks, to meet the renowned "Storm Giant."

There were fewer sailors than Rendon had expected, and now he knew why Fearcher had urged for every able-bodied man to march to Denerim, and that was precisely why he was here, despite Elaine's pleas. As they walked through the docks, searching for their host, Rendon couldn't help but notice that every eye was on them.

 _Father Slayer._

 _Nonsense! They do not know who I am!_

 _They do._

 _They've never seen me before!_

 _That does not matter. They know what you are. Do you?_

Rendon had slowed his pace, and Bryce turned around to see what was holding up his friend. Leonas crossed his arms and stood still, watching Rendon.

 _That one most of all—he knows what you are._

"Rendon?" Bryce placed his hand on Rendon's shoulder. "Is everything all right?"

Rendon felt himself relax at Bryce's touch. _He doesn't care._ "No, it isn't. But I can't talk about it."

Concern caused Bryce's brow to furrow. "Are you sure? You've been like this for months, now."

Rendon averted his eyes.

"This is about your father, isn't it?" Rendon's eyes darted back to Bryce's. His lips parted; but before he could speak, Bryce continued. "Don't try to lie to me. We've had this discussion before—if you don't want to talk, that's fine. But…" Bryce sighed, "I'm here, okay? Don't forget that. Aye?"

"Aye," Rendon mimicked. It gave Rendon no small amount of satisfaction to tease Bryce, and it was easy to do so by mocking his accent. He felt slightly better, but he knew he couldn't burden Bryce with his demons. Not yet, anyway.

Bryce rolled his eyes. "Come now, Fearcher is waiting."

Rendon nodded, and walked beside Bryce and Leonas until they reached a dock house. Men bustled about, carrying ropes one way and supplies another. As they wove their way through the commotion, Rendon saw several men surrounding a table, on which charts and maps were laid. A tall man with grey hair and a moustache was bent over the table, his palms resting on the wood.

"Is that?" Leonas asked.

"Must be," Rendon muttered.

The men who were gathered around the table parted way for the three newcomers. The large man straightened, becoming even taller than Rendon imagined possible for a human, and smiled. _Storm Giant, indeed._

"Welcome. Fearcher Mac Eanraig." He clenched his right hand and placed that arm across his chest, bowing slightly. "You three must be Leonas Bryland, Rendon Howe, and Bryce Cousland." He extended his hand. "I regret to say I do not know who is who."

Bryce was the first to return the gesture. "I am Bryce. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Would that it could be under more pleasant circumstances," said Fearcher. His hand now waited in front of Rendon, who shook Fearcher's hand firmly. His hand felt small in Fearcher's grip.

"Rendon Howe, at your service."

"Well, you look no worse for wear! The stories I have heard of White River said you were nearly dead."

Rendon grimaced. He did not like to think of this battle… he blamed the defeat on himself, even though Bryce had told him countless times it wasn't his fault. "I was, nearly. Leonas's sister didn't want me to come here. She'd prefer I stayed in bed a year to recover." He paused. "But I had to see this through."

"Admirable," said Fearcher. "I hear you are a strategic mastermind. We will need that." Fearcher turned to the last of them. "Leonas, then?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Ha!" Fearcher laughed, as shook Leonas's hand. "We are all equal, here. No banns, arls, or teyrns until King Maric grants us our titles again.

"These are my sons, Erik… Rolf… and Olivier." Fearcher had gestured to his left and right, pausing after each name to allow his sons to nod when their names were spoken. They all looked quite a bit like their father — thick moustaches, deep-set blue eyes, above average height — and they all had blond hair. "My daughter, Eleanor, is preparing the Mistral for our next raid. You will meet her soon."

 _That's that, then,_ Rendon thought. It was rare for him to receive such a warm welcome, and even praise, from a stranger.

It would be one of the last times he felt appreciated.


End file.
